Page 13 of Heart Cradle
“Well, I suppose he did catcall you while you were just trying to cross the road. Did you say anything else?”
“Hmm,” she nodded. “I asked if he was legally allowed to operate heavy machinery with so few brain cells.”
Eiran wheezed. “And then?”
“I stepped onto the bus like nothing had happened and complimented the woman behind me on her scarf. I believe that’s what we call a reset.”
Eiran leaned forwards, resting his arms on the table, still shaking his head. “Gods, you are absolutely terrifying.”
“I’m efficient,” she said. “And occasionally vindictive.”
He smiled, softer this time, but no less amused. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Thank you.”
The words came quiet, but stuck the landing with just enough weight to make them feel like more than filler.
Maeve tilted her head. “You should get out more.”
“Or just spend more time around you,” he said, watching her with that annoying level of eye contact.
She raised a brow. “Careful, that sounded dangerously like flirting.”
“Only if it’s working.” He said with a wink.
She held his gaze, took a slow sip of her coffee, and let the corner of her mouth tilt, barely. “Tragic for you, then.”
He grinned wider. “Yes, very vindictive, but we’ll see.”
He leant in, “I’m very patient, Maeve. But when I decide to flirt properly, when I stop being polite, it won’t be something you can brush off.” Eiran moved closer, voice velvet and dark. “It’ll be something you feel in your spine… your thighs, your core and in every breath that won’t come easy after. You’ll remember exactly what I want to do to you... and exactly how much you’ll want to take it.”
Maeve felt it like a jolt, low and molten, his words curled down her neck and coiled deep in her stomach. A throb lit in her, sharp and undeniable, her thighs clenching beneath the table like her body was answering a question her mouth hadn’t dared to ask. Heat licked up her back, bloomed behind her ribs, too fast and far too welcome. Her traitorous body ignited like it had been waiting for just that tone, that look, that promise. Her stubborn streak stirred again, slow and sly, dragging its claws through her chest.
Oh, don’t let him win that easily.
So she smiled, sweet, sharp-edged. “Good luck with that, your Highness.”
Eiran’s eyes flicked to her mouth, and his eyes deepened into something darker. “Oh, I don’t need luck, love,” he said, voice low. “I just need time, and a very sturdy bed.”
?????
Maeve looked down at her plate, pushing around a rogue olive from the salad they’d ordered some hours ago. They’d eaten slowly, talked without pause, talked about everything and nothing. Her time at university, the long, grey ache of losing her parents in her early twenties, and so close together. The loneliness of trying to be the best in a system that expected her to fail. Her voice had warmed when she spoke about the Met, but there was still steel beneath it. Eiran had heard it in the way she described her training, the constant push for more, for better, for perfection. “You weren’t just good at your job,” he said, watching her. “You were it, the tip of the spear.”
Maeve offered him a tight smile. “Doesn’t matter anymore. They shelved me, pushed me into forced leave after the…” She trailed off, lips moving like they wanted to form words but couldn’t commit.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “I want to and I will, eventually.”
Silence crumpled between them again, comfortable this time.
Eiran shifted slightly, reaching into his jacket. “There’s something I need to say,” he murmured.
Maeve sat up straighter. Not tense, but not relaxed, just still, like her body had gone into standby mode, waiting to see if this was something she’d need to run from. He pulled out a small velvet pouch, deep forest green, embroidered with a twisting gold design.
Maeve stared. “Is that?”
He nodded. “The pouch the Chain was once kept in. It’s spelled to recognise its original bearer, and their kin. When I found it again, I kept it close, waiting.”
He laid it on the table carefully.
